Thursday, June 18, 2015

Day 6.169 Golf

The US Open is in Seattle. In Tacoma actually. A place they call Chambers Bay. In case you don't have a clue as to what I am talking about, it is golf. I don't talk abut golf a lot here. There is a reason for that. I will explain.

I am not a golf fan. I have never watched a round on TV and never seen a major event live. I quit playing sometime between 1980 and 1985 when I took up endurance sports and quickly found that there was little time for anything else. I have yet to hear of someone playing 18 and then riding 56.

The reason I quit was simple. I got so bad it was more agony than it was worth. First my long game, never a strong point to begin with, went south. South in a hurry. So I stowed all woods and started to tee off with my 3 iron. It got to be somewhat a joke as my regular foursome would always ask what I was going to use regardless of distance to flag. "I think I'll play this one right down the middle and set up my second shot for a bird." I would say in total jest, playing the Rodney Dangerfield card.

Soon the 3 iron failed me as completely as the driver.

So I began using my 5 iron. I became pretty accurate with that stick, regularly putting it between the stakes at 130-160. I hit with as much oomph as I could manage, but 150 of 400 or more often left me using it again after a short walk.

Then catastrophe struck. I lost control of my 5 iron. To the 8 we went, thereby further increasing the odds that I would certainly be using it again in the fairway, and then again before clubbing down to a wedge to hopefully get close enough to putt for the remote chance at a double bogey. I started leaving the bag in the car and carrying just my trusty 8 and not-so-trustworthy putter.

No way to have fun. Especially since the guys were all big hitters and starting to sense some type of hand-eye dysfunction, or worse, in the guy who used to be a fairly decent hacker.

So I quit. Went cold turkey on pasture pool. Haven't gone back since. For historical record I did the same thing with baseball many years ago. I guess hitting a ball with some type of stick just wasn't my shtick. Robin Williams summed it up nicely.

And I feel fine. And look, I appreciate the complexity of the game, its demands, its strategy and the steely zen-ness of the best players. What they do under the close-up scrutiny of live TV and a huge audience is impressive.

Are they athletes? Sure, why not? They aren't required to run or throw. They don't tackle and they don't catch. But there is pressure, challenge and a rigid set of rules.

I might be jealous. They make a ton of dough and the chicks seems to dig it.

But I am still not a fan.

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